


It Doesn't End In Blood

by hanniballin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Guard!Dean, M/M, Mafia AU, Mob Boss!Castiel, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1553996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanniballin/pseuds/hanniballin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is enlisted as mafia boss Castiel Novak's body guard and he finds out that there are things that he didn't sign up for included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sign Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super short and kind of gross, so it'll be edited soon. I just wanted to get this out there. Feedback is appreciated. xoxo
> 
> EDIT; Changed up some things and checked grammar. xoxo

All Dean knew about his newest job was that he was to protect a man who was, unexclusively, the boss of a large organization in New York, or a mafia. Seemed easy enough. His cover was that he worked for a large company called Garrison Bros. Inc., but Dean knew better than that. He'd heard his name murmured in alleyways and on street corners. It was muttered by men who really couldn't have had relation to him, unless their words were correct. Castiel Novak was a big time organized crime boss, and it seemed like the only people who didn't know were local authorities. Or, rather, they kept off of mob cases and they didn't pick off their officers.

His brother had actually found him the job and it surprised him a little that Sam didn't have qualms about it like most other jobs he took on. Most jobs that entitled guarding and/or threatening of Dean's safety, Sam would fuss. Maybe he didn't say anything because he didn't know that the man was part of the mafia. But still, it was all in the effort of keeping his brother, and himself, fed and warm. They'd never actually had anywhere to call home and most of Dean's jobs didn't pay him enough, so they lived in their '67 Impala. He'd contemplated selling her, but he concluded that a) they needed transportation, and b) he really didn't want to give her up.

The drive to New York wasn't bad and soon Dean found their arranged meeting place, a fairly fancy restaurant near Central Park. The place wad busy and a fair amount of people occupied the chairs. It was small, but comfortable, and what sounded like pop music permeated from speakers in the cieling. He gazed around, idly wondering why such a man would require them to meet here, considering who he was. Mafia bosses don't just meet people in the middle of a crowded restaurant. But, then again, it did make sense. If he appeared to be a normal man during the day, no one would suspect his underground operation. He had to hand it to the guy, he was smarter than the average criminal.

He soon found what he was looking for, man sitting by himself near the back, dressed semi-formally. He had dark, almost black, brunet hair and the brightest blue eyes he'd ever seen in a man. A few scars marred the skin on his cheek and above his left eye, and a swathe of facial hair covered his jaw. His face seemed to be permanently encased in a frown, frown lines set deep in his face. He had to be no older than 25, but the lines in his skin suggested that he dealt with too much stress for someone his age. All in all, he was _very_ handsome.

When the man caught his gaze, a smile overtook his features and he motioned to the chair across from him. Dean took the offer, sliding into the mahogany chair and sitting as straight as he could. The man then snorted gently and shook his head.  
"No need to act so formal. Dean Winchester, I presume?" the man asks. He startles Dean with just how deep his voice was. It's low and gravelly and Dean feels it in his chest like the bass that hums from the speakers. He nods, relaxing his position ever so slightly.  
"Castiel Novak. I have been told that you have been thinking about aquiring the position of body guard?" he asks, folding his hands neatly on the table. Castiel? It sounded oddly biblical for someone running an underground mafia.  
"Pleased to meet you," Dean begins, "And yes, I've been contacted by your... secretary that you need one." Castiel nods in response.

"Yes, my last body guard was... put out of service. Permanently," the man explains, not one hint of sympathy slips onto his expression, as if he spoke about the weather. Dean gulps.  
"Ah... I may be the man you've been looking for," Dean says and Castiel gives him this smile that makes him look like a child.  
"Excellent. We've run a background check and you seem clean, as well. You start immediately. I will have your things moved into a loft in my residence," he says as he stands. Dean's stunned.  
"Woah, what? The job comes with board?" he asks. Castiel smiles as if he's being funny.  
"You're risking your life for my well being. Yes, of course you get board," he says simply.  
"Thank you, but I have a question," Dean begins and Castiel raises his eyebrow.  
"I have a younger brother and--"  
"He can stay as well."

Dean walks out of the place with a fairly big grin and slides into the driver's seat. Castiel gave him an address and a phone number and he was supposed to show up that night at 8pm for his job to begin. As he slides the key into the ignition, Sam's watching him curiously.  
"So...?" the younger begins.  
"Got the job. AND he's giving us room and board," Dean responds almost immediately. Sam raises his eyebrows in disbelief.  
"Seriously?" he asks. Dean understands his disbelief because he doesn't think that he'd believe it either. No job just _gives you a free room and food_. Well, it wasn't actually free because he was putting his life on the line but still--.  
"Yup. We have to be at his place at 8, so I can begin the job," he explains, taking the Impala out of park and into drive. Sam just responds with a small shrug and a nod as they pull out of the restaurant parking lot.


	2. Addressing and Addresses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not actually sure where any of this is going yet, but I'm starting to like it. Cas is probably a little not right, but he's good, I think. Maybe.
> 
> But anyways, I'll be adding Gabriel in the next chapter! So, stay tuned for... whatever this is. Thanks. xoxo

The entire place reeks of narcissism and somehow Dean really isn't that surprised. The address Castiel gave him brought them to a fairly large home on the outskirts of New York City. Standing at two stories tall and cast in dark coloured brick, the mob boss's home wasn't one to scoff at. It nearly overshadowed the rest of the houses on the block. Well, if there were any besides other big houses. It's 8:57 PM when they arrive, so they park at the end of the driveway. At the angle they sit, Dean can see the landscaping and he can't say that he isn't impressed because it's actually nice. It's clean cut and modern, the bushes shaped into perfect spherical shapes and immaculate prisms. The driveway is white coloured cement and winds up to a detached garage besides the home.

"Are you sure about this, Dean?" Sam questions, bringing his attention away from the home's exterior. He scoffs lightly as he turns to get out of the Impala.  
"Yeah. If this guy's company is as big as he says it is, I'll get paid some pretty big bucks," Dean answers and Sam mumbles something unintelligible as he grabs a dufflebag from the back seat. It surprises him a little that there's so little security outside of the home, but Castiel didn't seem like the type to show that sort of weakness. The trek to the front step isn't very long, but his footsteps echo almost eerily because of the lack of traffic around the street. Sam stands behind him as he knocks twice on the large wooden door.

From the inside, Dean hears a woman's voice reporting their arrival before a male dismisses her. Footsteps follow and the door opens, revealing a prestinely dressed Castiel smiling at them like they're old friends.  
"Hello, Dean. And I see you brought Sam. Nice to see you both," he says politely before stepping to the side with this expression like he's thanking them for their appearance. Well, in all livelihood, he probably is, in Dean's case.  
"Oh.. Uh... Nice to meet you, too, mister...?" Sam speaks up from behind him.  
"Novak. Castiel Novak of Garrison Brothers," the man offers and Sam gapes a little. Dean has the urge to elbow him out of embarrassment, but Castiel sees him and chuckles.  
"I get that reaction a lot, Dean. Don't worry about it," he reassures him, flashing the most friendly smile Dean has ever seen in his entire lifetime.

The entirety of the house follows a strict neutral colour scheme and all the furniture are pieced together like it's one giant puzzle. Castiel shows them about the house, revealing that it has four bedrooms and three bathrooms. Minimalist and contemporary paintings cover the walls and the tables covet small sculptures and art pieces. The bedrooms sport queen sized beds and one has a television. Sam gets that one, obviously. Dean's room, though, has a pretty large window, to compensate. Castiel is a gracious host, showing them around and leaving them to their rooms afterwards.

"I'll leave you two to get settled, but Dean, when you're finished, we have some private matters to discuss," Castiel explains as he stands in the doorway. Dean only responds with a nod as he leaves and shuts the door. Silence fills the space where they had been talking and it feels oddly... eerie(?) for a few seconds. Shaking it off, he then busies himself with putting his belongings in the dresser that's against the wall across from the bed. He doesn't have much, but it's enough to last him until he can buy more. Sam gets the privilege, though, so he'd come first. Once he gets his clothes and various things he's kept in his dresser, he sits in the chair that's situated by the window.

He'd almost say that it was strange, the way that Castiel acts. He's formal and nice and doesn't let on that he has a double life at all. He'd treated them like they were friends that he's known all his life. What worries him is the complete lack of remorse during the first conversation they spoke. You can usually, and quite easily, tell someone's emotions from their eyes. But, Castiel's? They were cold, always. They were the deepest blue Dean could actually imagine, but they were devoid of any real emotion, as if he didn't feel them. Of course, he probably did, but he was just good at hiding them. But, it still worried him.

He figures that he's done 'settling in' at around 9pm and makes his way towards the study. Thankfully, he hasn't forgotten its location and finds the door's shut and, by further investigation, locked. Instead of continuing to shake the handle, he reaches up and goes to knock, but the door suddenly opens. Castiel smiles brightly at him.  
"Come on in. Sorry I locked the door. I was dealing with... things," he says, motioning him inside. Dean knows that "things" probably means something illegal. So, it's no wonder that he's a little anxious to leave. But instead of leaving, he walks in and takes a seat at the chair that's across from the work desk that Castiel soon sits at. After the door is locked again. Oh.

"I have a few things to share with you, Dean. This may or may not affect your job requirements, but it's imperative that you know," Castiel explains, folding his hands together upon the desk. Dean nods. "I am not just the co-Founder of Garrison Brothers. Rather, I have a secondary occupation," he explains. Dean watches his expression as he waits. He's not surprised that he's telling him, but why tell him now? He's not loyal to him yet and quite frankly, he's a little wary. If he's telling him now, he's probably got a hold of something that could make him obligated to stay.

"I run a highly sophisticated group of men who hold power over the streets of New York," he begins and Dean feigns surprise.  
"You mean the mafia?" he questions. Castiel merely smiles. The simple expression sends minor chills up his spine because it's a dangerous, cold smile. One that's only used during times when you should fear for your life.  
"Yes. So, you see why I need a body guard," he says, leaning back in his chair. Dean nods.  
"So, you, and by extension, your brother, are extremely important to the survival of our organization. You protect me, the literal king of this group." Castiel basically boasts his leadership role, his eyes glinting in a way that made him look predatory.

"So.. if I tell anyone..?" Dean begins and is almost immediately answered with a glare. If looks could kill, Dean would have been slaughtered right then and there.  
"There will be... consequences. For both you _and_ your brother," he threatens. Yeah, he would be lying if he said that that wasn't running through his mind. Damn. The boss's expression softens ever so slightly after a moment or two.  
"However... you can opt out of the job. I won't penalize you or your brother if you quit now. As long as your mouth is sealed, I won't have my men come after you," he offers.

It's an unexpected curve ball to left field. Mainly because he'd expect some sort of contract that made him legally bound to the organization. Well, that and he'd be killed if he left. But, Castiel is suddenly soft on him and could almost pass as a normally nice guy. Dean swallows before nodding.  
"I'll stay," he tells him and Castiel basically beams at him.  
"Excellent. Before we get into the actual body guarding things, I'd like to establish some things," he begins, his face morphing back into a friendly smile. This guy has to have something wrong with him. He's crazy.  
"You can call me Cas. Everyone else does, and if you're to spend time around me, then I suggest that we get to know each other..."


End file.
